A Nord's Word
by holycowami
Summary: A young Breton is given to Hadvar as a War Prize. Though reluctant, the soldier's honor within him will not allow him to abandon her to the mercies of Skyrim. This story is in response to a prompt off of the kink-meme.
1. Chapter 1

Hiya. This was written for a prompt on the kink-meme but I thought I'd post the rating approved parts here as well to see what people think. :) You don't have to review or anything, I certainly won't hold the chapters for ransom or anything like that, but if you do find something you like, let me know, and the same for if you hate it. I'll never improve my writing if people won't tell me there's something wrong with it :) (It'll also be on the kink-meme and AO3 for those of you who want something a bit more explicit when I get round to writing 'that' bit :P )

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Wren sat facing the giant blond man, apparently a Nord, who had introduced himself as Ralof. She knew, without question, that had he been standing he would have towered over her. Ralof had immediately began questioning her as to her reasons for entering Skyrim. Wren had been too terrified to even open her mouth before the horse thief jumped in, blaming Ralof and his companions for their involvement in the mans capture. The argument had escalated further from there and all Wren could do was shrink back in fear, her bound hands useless, as these violent Nords began to take each other apart verbally.

"Quiet back there!" Wren flinched as the voice of one of the seemingly nameless Imperial Guards called back at the squabbling Nords. The men around her quieted down, though Ralof seemed intent on providing a running commentary on their progress, and Wren felt calm wash over her once more.

She'd never been around so much noise in her life.

Wren had been orphaned early on in her life and had been living on her own for the last eight years. She could use a bow and arrow with some small skill but had only ever used it to hunt small animals to provide meat for her table and furs to sell. Her magic had been bound at the age of one by her mother, partially for her own protection (after almost burning down the village at a sneeze they thought it would be best to wait until she was older and able to control the magic flowing through her veins) and partially as punishment for being the 'sprog-who-ruined-her-mothers-life'. As a Breton her natural magic being bound was tortuous.

Unable to use her natural defences and being cut off from her magicka so young had turned her in to a shy, reclusive youngling. When her mother had died whilst Wren was in her tenth summer she was left without protection in the wilds of Cyrodil. She had retreated further in to her shell, occupying only the little shack she and her mother had once lived in on the outskirts of a small mining town near Kvatch.

Knowing that the spell that bound her magic would begin to fade in her twentieth year and having little idea of the scale of her journey, Wren had made the momentous decision to head towards the college in Winterhold. Leaving her hovel had not been hard, it had never been a true home even when he mother lived. What daunted the young girl the most had been the idea of facing the outside world.

Now here she was facing an uncertain future, possibly containing her execution, imprisonment or both, with these rowdy, terrifying Nords.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hadvar sighed as the bell rang out throughout Helgen. He knew what was coming. The runner carrying news of three wagons full of Stormcloak rebels had arrived only yesterday. Arrangements had quickly been made regarding their instant execution. General Tulius had been notified and had arrived earlier that morning with a full regiment of Thalmor Justicars. He knew that it was important to catch the Stormcloaks, and further, knew that it was dangerous to allow them to live among the people. Allowing them to spread a rebellion that could get the citizens of Skyrim killed by the Thalmor.

In spite of the Empire's desire to protect it's citizens, the Thalmor legally had the right to search out, question and detain those who continued in the illegal worship of Talos. Despite this, Hadvar couldn't help but feel saddened that his birthplace was being torn apart like this, with old allies forced to take a stance and brother fighting brother. But, Hadvar knew from experience, not to bring any of his concerns up with his commanding officer.

Putting on his armoured boots he picked up his helmet and followed his men out in to the courtyard.

Three wagons rolled in to the square one after the other but Hadvar's eyes were drawn to the first of them. Amongst the three burly Nords seated in the cart there appeared to be a small female. His view of her was blocked by the slightly slouched form of the blond Nord, gagged and bound and seated in front of her, but her dark, inky hair stood out from the traditional blond hair of the surrounding Nords.

Even as he was trying to catch a glimpse of the mystery female he realised the Captain was talking. Pulling himself together Hadvar tried to decipher what was occurring.

"When you hear your name called, step forward and then move toward the block."

Hadvar stood ahead of the line that had come from the first wagon. Realising that the mystery woman's name might be on his list he quickly scanned down but could see, out of the corner of his eye, that the Captain was becoming impatient.

"Ulfric Stormcloak." The gagged man stepped forward, sending a proud glare Hadvar's way before turning towards the fort.

"Ralof of Riverwood." Hadvar couldn't help the shock that coursed through him as he recognised the man who had once been his childhood friend. Once as close as brothers, now on different sides of this terrible civil war, he would be forced to execute a man he had grown up with.

But now that two of the three Nords in his section had moved off, Hadvar could see the diminutive woman who had travelled with them. She shivered even in the relatively temperate climate of Helgen, her over-large rough-spun tunic clearly not providing the warmth her body needed in these harsher climes. Concern touched him briefly but he pushed it away. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted and he knew that there was no point feeling anything for a Stormcloak prisoner, as all were destined for the axe this day. Frowning slightly he looked at the last name on the list. Only one? That couldn't be right.

"Lokir of Rorikstead." he called. The jumpy thief standing slightly ahead of her sprang forward.

"No wait. We're not rebels. You can't do this." The captain glared at him, letting him know that his execution was occurring whether he liked it or not. The thief started running.

"You're not going to kill me!" With that passing shot he ran past the guards towards the gates of Helgen, arms still bound.

"Archers!" The shout came from next to him and he heard the sounds of the Imperial Archers loosing their arrows and the dull thunking sound as every one of them found their mark. Unable to help himself, he turned to see the reaction of the young girl and almost gasped in shock.

He couldn't stop his heart from going out to her this time as he saw the terrified look that crossed her face. She seemed to have taken an involuntary step backwards and was pressed against the side of the wagon, tears in her eyes. This was no battle hardened Stormcloak rebel, not a thief either, from the tears in her deep blue eyes.

"Let's see if anyone else is thinking of escape now." Crowed the Captain from next to him. Jerked from his thoughts, Hadvar checked the list once more.

"Who are you?" he asked after checking the lists of the other guards to make sure she hadn't been put on one of those by mistake. When she still didn't step forward, Hadvar was about to ask again but the Captain strode forward. Violently grasping hold of the girls shoulder length hair, she dragged her forward to stand before him. He tried to hide his shock at the Captain's loss of control but wasn't sure he managed it completely when Rikke's frown grew deeper.

"State your name Prisoner!"

The girl struggled to right herself, looking up at the Captain with undisguised terror.

"Wren. From near Kvatch. Please, what's going on?" She stuttered.

Hadvar forced himself to ignore her pleas, but deep down he longed to offer her some form of comfort, and inappropriate though it was , his interest had been peaked when the shoulder from her tunic had slipped down her arm revealing the top curve of one of her lush breasts. Hadvar, after months on duty, itched to taste the skin in the slight hollow of her collarbone.

Quickly shaking the lust from his eyes, knowing his Captain would not be impressed, he turned to his superior.

"What do we do Captain? Her name's not on the list."

…...

Thrice damned Bretons! Captain Rikke knew her hatred of the race was bordering on the the extreme but she just couldn't help it. She hated that Breton females garnered so much attention from her Nordic kinsmen just because of the novelty of their diminutive size. She had seen the lust in Hadvar's eyes even as he tried to hide it. She strode forward and grasped the bitch's hair in her fist, hauling her forward. Rikke watched as the little Stormcloak slut wriggled pathetically in her hold. Death was too good for scum like her.

That was when the idea hit her. A punishment worse than death. What could be worse for what had to be a staunch Stormcloak supporter than to be defiled by one of her enemies, and on the off chance that she wasn't a rebel, it would be far too late to do anything about it by that point.

"Support of the Stormcloak rebels is punishable by death!" She said sternly in response to Hadvar's question, hoping to goad him in to saying what she wanted him to. Ah, there it was, in the widening of his eyes.

"Forgive me Captain, but should we really be executing what could be an innocent without further questioning or a trial? What if she isn't a Stormcloak? She doesn't wear their armour."

"Oh...and would you vouch for her Hadvar? A possible Stormcloak spy?" She didn't allow him to answer as she plowed on.

"Well then, you have responsibility of her. Your own personal prisoner-of-war!"

…...

Hadvar stared, shocked, at his Captain as she violently shoved the young Breton in to his arms. He staggered slightly at the force behind her blow. Hadvar felt as Wren's bound hands came up to steady herself, the only purchase available being the slight folds of his tunic and armour.

"Please...I'm s...sorry."

Hadvar could barely hear what she was saying, it was so quiet. With his hands on her waist, holding her up, he could feel every tremble and sob as they wracked her slim frame. Putting an arm around her to steady the girl against him, he straightened and raised his gaze to the drama unfolding before his eyes in the courtyard.

Despite the fact that he had just been gifted a living person as though she were nothing more than a trinket from the local market, Hadvar knew that he didn't have time to really process what had happened. Nor did he have time to offer any real words of comfort to the poor girl shivering in his arms.

General Tulius stood before the assembled Stormcloaks. Hadvar wasn't close enough to hear what he was saying but the General seemed to be berating Ulfric Stormcloak and he could see Captain Rikke heading towards the gathering as he spoke. As Tulius turned to leave, Rikke politely tapped him on the shoulder, levelling a deep bow towards him to show the appropriate respect. Hadvar still couldn't hear what they were saying, but when Tulius frowned and turned once more towards the courtyard he knew that something further had been initiated by Rikke.

He looked down at Wren. She was still clinging to his armour, shivering in the cool wind that came off the mountain in to Helgen, though her sobs had quieted somewhat. General Tulius was making his way over to them and Hadvar didn't like the frown on his superior's face. He tried to comfort Wren as much as was possible in the short time allowed to them.

"Look. It'll be all right...I'll do my best to make sure you get back to your family and get out of this unscathed. I'm so sorry this has happened to you."

His breath caught in his throat as she looked up at him. A bolt of shock and lust running through him as he looked in to the glacial blue of her eyes. It may have been inappropriate to feel lust at such a time, but she had peaked his interest, though he would never act upon it. It had already struck him that it would be a complete breach of his honour and the trust Wren was putting in him, written in her silent acceptance of his words, to take advantage of the young girl.

Wren tucked her head back against his chest as Tulius joined them and Hadvar was astounded once more by the tender feelings evoked by her trust in him. He held her tighter to him, hoping to tell her without words that he would keep her safe.

…...

Wren couldn't help but feel safe in the arms of this soldier. She had never really been able to read people or their intentions but his solid warmth and the softly spoken words of moments ago had her instinctively seeking shelter within his protection. She prayed desperately that this was not just a ploy and that she could truly trust the soldier currently keeping her shaky knees from dragging her once more to the rough cobbles beneath her feet. There was nothing she could do if he was tricking her and so she left her fate in the hands of the Nine and surrendered her care to him. Within the comforting circle of his arms she was only peripherally aware of the drama playing out next to her.

The first warning that the gods were laughing at her prayers once again came in the sudden tightening of the arms around her. It didn't feel crushing, just tighter, and seemed almost to turn her away from the source of attack, though she didn't even move. Wren pricked up her ears and paid attention. Surviving on her own had made her cautious. Even with his promise. Listening intently, she heard words like 'questioned' and 'rebel' coming from the man stood beside them. Lifting her head cautiously she sneaked a peek, trying to get a hold on what was going on. Stood next to them was an older man, though definitely military, and behind him, sneering, the Captain who had shoved her in to the arms of the man currently holding her up.

"Sir, please. Respectfully, you can't seriously believe this girl is a rebel, much less a rebel spy." The words seemed to rumble deeply as they were spoken and even through the armour, Wren could feel them against her chest.

"Legate. I understand your reluctance to part with your property, however, be assured that she will be returned to you unharmed after questioning. Providing, of course, that we find her to be innocent of association with the Stormcloaks. I cannot allow one soldier's disagreement of our methods to stand in the way of the Empire's cause."

Wren didn't understand what was happening entirely, although she found that, whilst she didn't care for being thought of as any person's property other than her own, there was nothing she could do about it at this point and if that's what it took to get away from all these people then that was fine. Although she still did not know his name, she had never heard him call her his property and he had promised to return her to her family. She had no family but he didn't know that and it was the intention behind the promise that really made her feel safe. She looked up at him to see what would happen next. The line of his jaw was tensed and the look on his face grim. Moments went by with no action and Wren glanced, confused, at the other two participants of this strange conversation she'd only heard half of.

"Do I need to make that an order Legate?" He sounded less controlled now, as though the thought of this man disobeying him wasn't just offensive but ridiculous.

Nothing happened for several seconds. Then the arms holding her up slackened somewhat. Wren caught herself as her knees almost gave way once more but she couldn't bring herself to let go of the man's tunic completely.

"No Sir. May I just have a moment to tell her what's happening?" Wren couldn't help it, the empty feeling of dread returned to her chest at his words. She told herself she should never have got her hopes up. Safety was an illusion. Allowing herself to trust, a mistake.

"Fine, Legate. But make it quick. You still have an execution to supervise." The other man moved away somewhat and suddenly Wren found herself staring in to warm brown eyes. He held her up by her elbows, giving her time to steady her legs. Her hands were just in front of her face, brought up by the sudden movement and the instinctive desire to protect her face and head from whatever may be coming next, but the way he was bending, locking eyes with her, put his face almost within her hands, bound though they were.

"I swear, on my honour as a member of the Imperial Army, that I will get you out of here and back to your family. I will do my best to ensure that no harm comes to you. I have to oversee the execution now, but as soon as I can, I'll come and find you and work out how to get you home. Do you understand?"

Wren's fingers moved on their own, she would never have commanded them to do such a thing, and she slowly ran the very tip of her thumb along the curve of his cheekbone, just under his right eye and then down, towards the edge of his jaw. Her gaze was inextricably drawn to his lips as they parted ever so slightly and she noticed a light tinge of pink bloom just underneath her thumb. Her thumb which rested lightly on the man's jaw-line. Eye's widening in shock, she snatched her hands away pulling them against her chest. What in all the heavens had possessed her to do such a thing? Wren ducked her head, desperately embarrassed by the lack of control she had over her own limbs, unable to understand why she had felt the need to touch his skin. She didn't even know his name.

Refusing to look him in the eye again, apparently her limbs found that too enticing, she tried to centre herself and work out what was going on, both with her own body and around her.

"Do you understand?" He asked again and Wren thought there might have been a slight waver in his voice as he said it. She nodded, still unable to meet his eyes, but dragging forward the courage to ask just one question.

"What's your name?' She asked, voice so quiet it was a whisper. He didn't answer for a moment and thinking she had perhaps offended him, Wren looked up at last. The first thing she noticed was how warm his eyes still were. Surely that was a trick, or an illusion. Something she was making herself see, providing herself with comfort in this most dire of situations. She'd never seen warmth in a persons eyes before, only ever the cold, hard flash of hate in her mother's eyes, and she had never been close enough to a man to even determine the colour of his eyes, let alone the emotions within them. She could see that though he looked tense, he didn't look angry with her question, instead, the corners of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly and he was looking in to her eyes again as he answered.

"Hadvar. Of Riverwood."

"Thank you Hadvar." She whispered.

At this, Hadvar seemed to notice that the General and the Captain were coming back over. Wren's eyes widened slightly as the rest of the world rushed back in. The fact that she was standing in a courtyard full of men about to be executed had not been forgotten, but had seemed to fade in to the background some what. Hadvar seemed reluctant to let go of her arms and Wren was unbelievably grateful for the support, however when the older military man came to stand before them, Hadvar stepped back, his hands falling to his side and then in to a salute. Wren was left standing, isolated in the courtyard, at the mercy of the woman who had thrown her to the ground and then in to the arms of a soldier and the man who had demanded that she be questioned. She turned to face them but couldn't bring her self to look them in the eye. Her fear kept her timid but she knew that the fear would do nothing to help her so she tried to keep it from overwhelming her once more.

The woman grabbed her arm and dragged her off towards the keep. Her dark eyes sharp and narrowed in their hatred, Wren knew she was not escaping this new situation unscathed. She cast a glance back at Hadvar, knowing that despite his promise, this might be the last time she saw him. To her complete surprise, he was following her with his eyes, brown met blue and her breath was taken from her. He looked resolute, his jaw set and his eyes steely, and Wren knew, now without a doubt, that he would find her. She just hoped that he was in time.

She was dragged past the men she had rode in the cart with and despite her fear of them, she truly prayed that should they be executed, which looked to be the only possible outcome, that they find peace within the afterlife. She kept her head down, not wanting to give the Captain another reason to hate her, though she clearly didn't need one and being un-provoking may be completely useless. The Keep loomed ahead of them, the giant double doors flanked by Imperial Soldiers. They rushed to pull the doors open for the Captain and saluted as they passed. Wren had raised her head as they passed, not wanting to fall in the entrance to the keep and she was pulled through the door she saw one of the guards leering at her. She could only be grateful that she had been given to Hadvar rather than one of these other soldiers. She had the instinctive feeling that they would not be quite so honourable in their dealings with her.

They paused momentarily as a gate within the Keep was unlocked and opened for her and then entered a large circular room. The iron gate was closed swiftly behind them and Wren could take in the room despite the flickering torch light. Every archway had a gate in it, each one locked. The Captain had released her arm from the bruising grip she had maintained throughout their trip across the courtyard and she could feel the blood rush back in to her arms. She glanced over at the woman who'd dragged her here, she was fishing through a ring of keys held on her belt. Escape hadn't even occurred to her, but she knew it would be pointless to try now that they were within the Keep. She was surrounded by walls of steel and iron and heavy stone.

The Captain had removed a key from the ring of them, and was walking back towards her. Wren wondered why she had removed the key from the ring when it had a clasp to remove it from the belt and keep all the keys together. She was answered very quickly when the Captain wrapped her fist around the key, leaving the prongs exposed at the bottom. She tried to back up against the wall when she saw the gleam in the other woman's eyes, but she was caught by the rope that held her wrists together and the Captain swung. The world around her went black once more as her fist connected with the side of her face and she fell to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Hadvar could still feel the feather light touch of her thumb as it trailed delicately along the sensitive skin under his eye. Such a tentative, innocent touch should not have sent darts of sensation directly from her finger tip to his cock. Yet it had taken all his will power not to grown and press his cheek to her palm. He'd always been tactile, he reasoned, and touch starved as he was during this posting, clearly anything could set him off, surely he couldn't be blamed for that.

But even clearer, was the sensation of emptiness as she had been led away from him by Captain Rikke. Even had he not already sworn to protect her, the look she had sent him as she'd been near enough dragged away by the Captain would have sent him after her, sword drawn, had he not forced himself to stay glued rigidly to his spot in front of the General. What was he thinking? He asked himself the same question as he had just seconds ago, and mere seconds before that. Why was he willing to throw away his career as a military man and possibly his life for a slip of a girl he only just knew? Why did he let them take her away? No. That one had slipped in there, unbidden. Shaking his head, and digging deeper in to his denial, he reminded himself that it was only his promise to Wren that had his whole body itching to follow after her and the Captain and ensure they kept to their promise to do her no harm. He was on duty and could not leave his post, particularly as Captain Rikke was now engaged in escorting his, no, _the_ girl, to a secure location inside the keep for 'it-gods-damn-better-be-gentle' questioning. His teeth seemed to grind together of their own accord as he thought of what would occur should he find she'd been harmed. He threw that thought away as quickly as it had come. After the execution he would find her and ensure her continued good health. Until then, he had a job to do. He quickly marched to the executioners block as the priestess moved towards the stairs of the watch tower to perform the last rights.

So intent was he on getting through this execution without abandoning his post that he barely heard the first roar, even as the ground shook in response.

…...

Rikke had enlisted the aid of a guardsman in carrying the unconscious Breton towards the torture chamber. The girl was now slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, her inky black hair swinging with every step the man took. Hadvar wouldn't be best impressed by her blatant breach of the General's promise that she would be returned to him unharmed, evidenced by two rather sore looking scratches now decorating her face, but she rationalised that she had never made any such promise. Besides, who knew the prongs of a key could do so much damage whilst trying to subdue a recalcitrant prisoner. And should Hadvar decide to press the point, she would simply point out that if he was prepared to argue with his commanding officer than perhaps he wasn't as deserving of a reward as she had thought and perhaps the prisoner of war should be assigned to another, more deserving soldier.

That would slow him down.

She'd seen the look in his eyes when the little bitch had curled further in to his arms as she and the General came towards them.

Perhaps Hadvar had been a bad choice of men to give a young girl to, she mused as she walked ahead of the guardsman and his burden. He seemed far to honourable. Why even now, the idiot who carried the girl was taking every opportunity to manhandle her when he thought his commanding officer wasn't looking. After all, even through her hate Rikke could admit to herself that the Breton girl was vaguely pretty underneath all that dirt. She'd even touched him, the little slut. What was wrong with the man? He should have asked to be dismissed and returned to his quarters to 'enjoy' his reward. Though perhaps she hadn't made that any easier by alerting the General to her possible spy status. Rikke nearly kicked herself, sometimes she just didn't think these things through. Oh well, she thought with a smile as they neared the underground room within the dungeons, handing her over to be tortured would be just as fun.

Rikke handed over the girl with instructions that they were to get information regarding the Stormcloaks out of her no matter the cost, once again forgetting to relay the fact that no actual torture should be employed in the quest for this information. She had requested to know all the results directly and the head torturer had been happy explain to her an experimental method he had been looking to try on someone now that it had been perfected. Rikke couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine at the thought. Divines, she was glad that man was on their side. His newest method was particularly cruel.

She'd noticed that the Breton had just been coming round when she and the guardsman had been about to leave, the guard having slung her none to gently on to the table the torturer's apprentice had showed them too whilst the head torturer himself had outlined the effects of the potion he had created. A lust potion with an awfully cruel twist.

Just as she was making her way back to the execution ground to check on their progress, Divine's knew it would be her head on the block if they cocked up taking off Ulfic Stormcloak's head, the entire world shook and she was flung towards the wall by the guard as a giant chunk of the ceiling came crashing towards them.

She allowed the guardsman to help her back up as the tremors stopped momentarily, thanking him for his quick action, and then legged it back along the corridor to the courtyard to see what had happened as the echo of a magnificent roar shuddered through the Keep.

…...

Wren groaned at the pounding of her head when she came round again. This was the second time in as many hours that she had awoken from unconsciousness and it was taking its toll. She tried to take in her surroundings but everything was blurry and shaking. She blinked a couple of times and slowly the shapes around her became more solid and real, though things were still a little out of focus around the edges. She was underground, she thought when she looked around, there were no windows and torches were lit in sconces around the small, dark room. She reached up to touch the wound on the side of her head and found that her wrists were no longer bound, but her ankle was chained to the leg of the table she was laying on. Table? She sat up quickly, ignoring the way it made her head spin and little black dots swim before her eyes. That was when she saw the three cages in a row along the wall of the room and noticed the dry brown stains running in spatter patterns all over the table she had just been laying on. Panicking and scared she tried to get up, only to trip on the heavy manacle attached to the leg of the table.

That was what caused the two men inside what looked like a large prison cell to look up. The elder one smiled when he saw she was awake, a wicked smile, promising all the evil implied by the room they were in. The other looked slightly pained but not enough to help her that was for sure. The older one turned to a table behind him and picked up a vial. He spoke sharply to his associate who nodded grimly and came out of the room, striding towards her. Wren backed up towards the table but was weighed down by the thing hanging off her ankle. She didn't have the strength in herself to manoeuvre as though it wasn't there, though she put up a good fight if she did say so herself. When he first lunged towards her, she ducked under his arm, spinning away so that he couldn't grab her, some of her natural speed showing through despite being so encumbered. Wren knew that if you weren't going to be strong, and her slim frame was never going to support much muscle, you had to be fast, or you were dead.

Unfortunately, she wasn't quite fast enough. He caught her against the pillar, the chain connecting her to the table hadn't been long and jangled now as she was lifted off the floor by the man's fore-arm against her chest, cutting off her air-supply. Her hands scrabbled at the meaty appendage, anything for the next breath of air. The other one had come out of the massive cell now and was making his way towards her holding the vial carefully. Wren was even more intent on getting free when she saw how it glowed. She thrashed around desperately, almost getting free, till the man holding her to the wall slapped her hard, stunning her, and shoving her back against the stone pillar, dazed once more.

The older man seemed to assess the situation for a moment.

"This would be easier if she was on the table." He said to the man holding her. "That way we can just tip it down her throat when she refuses."

Taking advantage of her still stunned state, the behemoth holding her up quickly shuffled her over to the table.

"How hard did you hit her?" Said the older one with a chuckle when she still hadn't begun struggling again, despite being laid out on the stained surface once more, one of the giant's hands splayed across the top of her chest, near her neck, holding her down with little effort.

"Hard enough." He grunted back, lifting his other arm to show his master the scratches she had left with her nails whilst trying to escape.

She turned her face away from them, the only form of rebellion she could manage in this dazed state, but the giant used his other hand to turn her back towards them, his large fingers bruising the skin along her jaw.

"Open your mouth." He growled at her, shaking her slightly when she silently refused, but the other one was apparently done playing around. He wanted to see the results of his potion and it would take a little while to kick in, so the longer she was stubborn, the longer it would be before he could view the results.

Despite the fact that she had her lips sealed tightly, he lifted her head and fit the mouth of the bottle to hers, laying her back down once he was sure it wouldn't leak. When she still didn't open her mouth he growled and pinched her nose closed.

Eyes widening, Wren struggled to hold her breath, kicking and bucking against the forces that held her down to no avail. No. No! Even knowing that she shouldn't, she opened her mouth, desperate for air. The glowing yellow liquid gushed down her throat as she drew a deep breath, sputtering and choking against the potion. Even as she choked, she could feel the potion begin to effect her body. A warmth was growing deep within her skin, desperate to get out. Suddenly it was unbearable, every millimetre of her skin felt as though it was being seared from her muscle, every muscle contracted sharply and every bone felt as though a thousand hot needles were sawing through them. She screamed as she arched from the table, the vial smashing on the cobbles of the floor, finally able to throw off the hold of the men. Writhing in agony, it felt as though, for just a moment, the entire world was writhing with her. The table she was on shook, but she barely noticed as she arched further, before curling in on her self.

"Quick, grab her. Don't let her fall off the table, she'll only do herself more damage and I want to see the effects without added trauma, this time." Wren could feel bands of steel wrapped in skin grabbing her wrists and ankles and pulling outwards, centring her on the rough surface. Every agony of seconds ago was dwarfed as this new agony wracked through her body.

"I thought you said it would take a little while to kick in?" A voice, she had no idea who's, shouted over her screams. "Did the room shake when she screamed or do you think that was a coincidence?"

"It does," shouted the other voice, still unintelligible through her agony and over her screams as her body burned from the inside out, "this is just the first part, it's getting in to every part of her, body and soul. That's why it's so effective, it lasts for days without need for a second dose, but I think it's reacting to her magicka as well. It feeds off the magicka energy."

She shrieked again as a fresh wave of pain rolled over her. The room rocked once more. Both men let go as they noticed that it wasn't something she could have caused.

…...

A Dragon. A freaking Dragon. As if this day wasn't bad enough, he thought as he called the boy towards him. First the planned execution of a childhood friend, then these strange undeniable feelings, and worse lust, for an almost obscenely young girl, now this. How old do you think she actually is, he asked himself, before pulling himself together. Not the time. The young boy was running towards him and he pulled the kid to him just as a plume of flame lit up the ground he'd been standing on moments before. Shielding the kid from the flames, he took a moment to look around at the destruction raining down on what was once Helgen. The keep was still standing, though only just and he knew he needed to get there as soon as possible, before the whole thing collapsed. He needed to find his way to Wren. He'd promised her that he'd get her out of here and back to her family. Making sure the boy was looked after he headed through the debris towards the keep. Dodging attacks from the Dragon, which he still couldn't believe was what was occurring, he made his way quickly past soldiers desperately trying to stay alive.

Once inside the keep, the cool dark of the stone walls, and the reduction in noise made him feel safer, though he knew that, this close to the Dragon, stone bound safety was an illusion. He was in one of the barracks and grabbing a fresh sword and shield, he downed a health potion from his collection and raced down the corridor towards the dungeons, praying that was where he'd find Wren, locked safely in a little cell of her own. The idea of her forced to share a cell with some rough criminal had anger buzzing at the back of his skull and he gritted his teeth against it. He unlocked the iron gate in to the next room, not really paying attention, just knowing he had to get to the dungeons. And almost lost his head as an axe swung towards him. He parried clumsily with his shield, taken off guard, but quickly caught himself and drew his sword in time to meet the next blow.

Which as when he saw who he was fighting. Ralof. His childhood friend, the one who's execution today he'd been a big part of. He grimaced. This probably wouldn't work then.

"Hold Ralof," he said quickly. "We're more likely to get out of here if we work together. What do you say?"

Ralof glared at him suspiciously, but he didn't raise his axe again, as though reserving judgement. Hadvar lowered his sword, keeping his shield raised, just in case. The circled each other carefully, both trying to see if the other would attack.

"Look, Ralof. I don't have time to hang about, I made a promise to Wren that I'd get her out of here and back to her family and this place isn't going to be standing much longer if that Thing out there has anything to say about it." He bowed his head. "I'm sorry friend, I had no idea your name was on the list today."

At that, Ralof seemed somewhat taken aback. His axe went right down, and his stance relaxed.

"No." He said. "In all fairness, I accepted the chance of my death at the hand's of the Imperial's when I aligned myself with the Ulfric. Though I admit it was a shock to see you there, list in hand. When did you join the Imperials old friend?" Ralof seemed prepared to talk, if still slightly suspicious, which Hadvar was glad for, there was no getting around it, he'd almost had a friend executed today and only the arrival of a giant winged beast had halted the actual axe fall. It was a terrible position to be in on both sides. But he didn't have time to explain himself fully. He dragged the key to the gate out his belt once more and headed towards the corridor that led underground.

"We'll have to talk about it on the way I'm afraid Ralof. What say we call a truce for now. At least until we get out of here?" Ralof nodded as Hadvar unlocked the gate and swung it open.

They made their way down the curved staircase and were about to continue down the corridor when the world shook once more and the ceiling caved in ahead of them. Coughing from the dust, Hadvar could only wait till the dust cleared so he could see whether they could continue.

"I'll give the Dragon this, he's certainly determined." Ralof quipped. Hadvar gave him a dry stare and chuckled slightly at the thought.

"What do you think he's here for? He's not under Ulfric's command is he?" Ralof threw a sarcastic look his way. "Well, it did stop his execution."

"Stopped mine too." said Ralof dryly, "Am I the one who's controlling Dragons now?"

Hadvar snorted at that thought. He grinned at Ralof.

"Well. You were always inordinately interested in Bleak Falls Barrow." He said, pointing his companion over to a door in the wall next to them. Inside was the store-room which had two doors and might allow them to by pass the fallen stone. After all, there was no way to get through that lot without a team of men with pickaxes.

"Yes, and you shared my 'interest'."Ralof replied wryly. "We scared each other silly with stories of Draugr climbing out of the tombs and crawling down the mountains in search of fresh meat."

Those were good days, thought Hadvar, before all this mess.

They quickly made it through the store room, Hadvar pocketing a couple of health potions he'd found, just incase. The door on the other side of the room was miraculously clear of debris, the very first thing that had gone right for him all day. Together, they carried on down the corridor and down the next set of stairs. Ralof was slightly in front and Hadvar heard him call out in surprise that they had entered a torture chamber. He felt sick with shame that it could have been his friend down here, suffering the not-so-tender mercies of the head torturer. He hurried on as he heard the clash of steel, rounding the corner at a dead run.

There was a young Stormcloak woman attacking the head torturer, and Ralof was holding off the man's assistant. Hadvar came to a dead stop as he saw Wren in one of the little cages that lined the wall, her hands chained above her head. She seemed unconscious, but her breathing was laboured and her face and neck sported an assortment of bruises that were just beginning to bloom, along with two violent looking scratches marring the skin of her left cheek.

Furious and not thinking, he drew his sword. Heading straight for the head torturer, he pulled the man away from the Stormcloak girl he was trying to electrocute and backed him forcibly against the wall. She nodded at him and went to help Ralof.

"Don't kill him Ralof. We might need information from him if this one won't answer." He snarled, unable to control his rage that a young innocent girl had been placed in the care of these men. He held his sword to the man's throat, holding him up with his other hand fisted in his tunic.

"What did you do to her?"

"Just what the Captain ordered." The slimy little man squeaked.

"And what was that exactly?"

"Not telling"

"Where's the key to the cell?"

"Lost it"

The odious man was grinning now and the last little chain holding Hadvar's temper back finally snapped. Without remorse, he drove his sword though the man, killing him instantly, which if Hadvar was honest with himself, was more than he felt he deserved.

That done he turned to the man's assistant, who had been corralled in to a corner and subdued by Ralof and his ally. As he stormed over, the giant of a man held up his hands, an image of supplication. He must have seen the murderous feelings in his eyes.

"If you kill me you'll never find out what he gave her, and trust me, you need to know." Were the man's first words. Ralof growled at him.

"And what do you want in return for the information?"

"Just safe passage out of here with you. All I want is to get out of here alive. I swear I'll tell you everything I know about the potion he gave her."

"Fine." Hadvar growled. "But first. Where's the damn key to the cell?"

…...

The key really had been lost, though Hadvar had no idea how, but Ralof was searching the room while he questioned the assistant. Unfortunately, though his explanation shed light on what had happened to Wren, it didn't do anything for the sense of guilt growing within him. Hadvar could only blame himself for what had happened to her and every minute she remained in chains pained him to the depths of his soul.

"He'd been perfecting this potion for months. The general knew about it but only theoretically. It's a lust potion, but with a really cruel twist. Normally, a potion like that would fade within a couple of hours, or after, uh...lets say release. Not this one. It eases with release but builds up again very quickly, and it lasts for days. If it goes un-sated, the pressure and the heat and the craving, they all begin to build up. They don't level out, like they might normally, to an acceptable, if irritating level. Instead the feelings grow and grow, uncontrollable lust, for days. The head torturer, he said that in the end, if they went without...release...they would be driven mad by the cravings."

The man at least had the good grace to cringe as he imparted this last bit of information but Hadvar was still so incensed that he had to get up and walk away else he'd have done the same to him as he'd done to his master. The Stormcloak girl stayed to guard him and Hadvar could hear her asking more questions.

"How long does the potion last?"

"A couple of days at least. He said it permeated to the bones which is why it lasts so long."

He moved in to the large room that had been built within the chambers for the storing of weapons and implements. It had a cage like feel as the guards had felt it needed to be lockable incase of an escape. He moved to the shelves and stared searching for the key or another way of opening the locks that held Wren bound.

"Has it started affecting her already or does it have a build up period like other potions?"

"It should take just over half a day to take full effect, but she'll be feeling the start of it now."

Just then Ralof called out. He'd found a lock pick in the backpack and had started trying to break in to the cages. Hadvar sighed, it was unlikely that the Imperial Army would have such shoddy locks that an amateur could pick them. Just as he finished that thought, Ralof swung the door of the cage open, crowing something about second rate security.

Hadvar may have been shocked, but that didn't stop him from racing across the room and kneeling beside Wren as Ralof worked on the shackles that held her to the wall.

"Who is she?"asked Ralof as he worked, cursing as he snapped one of the picks.

He was surprised that Ralof didn't know, though it confirmed his suspicions that she wasn't a Stormcloak, he couldn't help thinking that someone had to have been at least acquainted with her.

"You really don't know her?"

Ralof gave him a strange look over the shackle he was currently working on.

"No." He said slowly. "Ulfric and I were caught just before we left Skyrim. A couple of hours later we were stopped again and a couple of guards came up to our cart dragging her between them. She was unconscious all of the first day, though they tied her hands and sat her on the bench when we stopped to water the horses. She only woke up as we came in to Helgen. I tried to get a name out of her but she looked terrified. 'Spose it didn't help that there was rather a lot of shouting on the horse-thief's part." He'd muttered the last bit but Hadvar caught it.

It really just confirmed everything he'd surmised about Wren, that she was an innocent placed in a terrible position by chance and bad luck. It made what had happened to her that much worse. A soldier signed up for this life, he accepted the risk of death in his career. Wren had been accused and sentenced without trial, a massive breach of the morals of the Imperial Army and of the trust the people put in the Army to hold the peace without abusing their position of power. Today was the first time Hadvar had ever been given cause to feel truly ashamed of the conduct of the Imperial forces.

There was a clink within the last shackle as Ralof got it free and Hadvar instantly shuffled round so that Wren was leaning with her back to his chest. He fished a healing potion out of his pocket and uncorked it with his teeth. Using his other hand, he gently tilted her head back so that she wouldn't choke on the potion as it went down. As he placed the rim of the bottle to her lips, Wren whimpered and tried to turn her head away. The sound cut through him like a knife, but he knew he had to get a some of it down her or she'd never even make it out of Helgen, let alone all the way to Riverwood.

"It's a potion of healing Wren." He whispered to her soothingly, hoping she could hear him and wasn't just acting on instinct. She seemed to settle against him slightly, as though calmed by his voice. He couldn't help the soft feeling in his chest at the proof that she associated him with safety, and he smiled as she opened her mouth in a sigh. Gently tipping the potion up he let the smallest of amounts out at a time so that she wouldn't panic or choke.

The effects were near enough instant and Hadvar sighed with relief as the deep cuts on the side of her face started to knit back together and her breathing became less laboured. It wasn't till he'd carefully given a second potion to her that he even remembered that they were in a room with an audience. He looked up and couldn't stop the slight colouring of his cheeks as he saw Ralof staring down at them, a mocking grin spread across his face. He had risen to stand in he doorway of the cage, blocking them from the view of the other two in the room which Hadvar was grateful for, though he knew Ralof himself would never let him live down this new tenderness he seemed to be displaying.

"She's a tiny little thing isn't she? Are all Breton's that small?"

Just then Wren groaned and her eyelids fluttered as though she was going to open her eyes. Hadvar's gaze shot to her but instead of waking she shifted slightly, turning in his arms. She tucked her head in to the curve of his neck and breathed deeply. Nothing could stop his blush then. Wren was undulating slightly and a massive rush of lust spread through him as he realised what she was trying , entirely innocently on her part, to do. He looked up as he heard Ralof draw in a breath loudly, only to see his blush mirrored on the Nord opposite him.

Feeling suddenly and irrationally possessive about the small woman in his arms he shot a savage glare at Ralof as he shifted Wren in his arms so that her front was tucked against his chest. The glare only made Ralof chuckle slightly and so the only effect the move had was to give Wren more of a surface to rub against. Hadvar was almost glad she was still unconscious, he had a feeling she would be mortified by her current behaviour. His feeling was further justified when he felt the tiniest of licks to the skin of his collarbone. He groaned, unable to keep the sound in, his arms tightening slightly around the slim frame of the woman who was currently knelt straddling one of his legs, another by-product of him shifting her from Ralof's view.

"Come on. We still need to get out of here without being eaten by that Dragon, and if what he's said about the potion is correct, you two are going to need a room somewhere pretty soon."


	3. Chapter 3

When the head-torturer had started throwing around bolts of lightening, Asta's life had flashed before her eyes. Her fellow rebel had already fallen at the hands of the man's assisstant and she knew she had no chance against the two of them. Her heart sank further as, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw yet another Imperial Soldier had dashed down the stairs, hand going to his sword.

She was endlessly surprised when he was followed by Ralof and even more so when the Imperial began to attack the head torturer himself.

Now they were sat in this awful dungeon listening to the torturer's odious assisstant detailing exactly what had been done to the young woman in the cage. Despite how odd it felt to be allied with an Imperial Soldier, Asta couldn't help but respect the lengths this Nord was prepared to go to ensure the health and safety of a young woman. She'd seen enough men who wouldn't have hesitated to take advantage of the situation had they been 'gifted' a young woman. Hadvar, as Ralof had introduced him, had not only seemed to genuinly care about the welfare of this girl but had killed to ensure it.

When they had finally got the cage open and the manacles free from the girls wrist Asta thought their journey through the maze of tunnels underneath Helgen's Keep would continue. But the little Breton was still unconcious. She shot a glare at the assisstant, still crouched in the corner, knowing that at least part of her state was due to this man and his master. She may not know the girl but it was hard not to feel some sympathy towards her. She'd been dragged in to a civil war that she had nothing to do with, been gifted to a soldier without a care, then apparently fed some dodgy potion with the intent of causing unbearable torment. And it wasn't even over for her yet.

"Come on! We have to get out of here."

Asta turned to Ralof, standing in silent agreement to his words. She shot a questioning look towards the cell in which the Imper...Hadvar was tending to the girl. Ralof shot a dirty look at the assisstant.

"She's coming round. We're just trying to get her concious at the moment. Hadvar's feeding her health potions. It's going to be hard enough to get out of here anyway, so we need her walking at least."

She nodded. Crawling through caves was difficult enough without having to worry about carrying someone around. She was worried though. What was going to happen after they made it out of this place? Would Hadvar and Ralof be back at each other's throats as soldiers on the opposite sides of a brutal civil war? Would Hadvar take advantage of the the Breton's new vulnerability? Asta didn't think Hadvar was the type to...to...well, it was essentially a type of rape wasn't it? If the girl couldn't say no because she risked madness otherwise? It was a bit of a grey area, but Asta resolved to take the girl aside before they got out of here and make sure she was at least consenting. Hadvar may seem honorable for the moment but he was an Imperial. Anyone who could betray Skyrim like that could easily turn on a woman, no matter how pleasant they acted.

Shaking the thoughts out of her head for now, she watched as the small woman was led out of the cage, unsteady to start with but moving better with every potion she downed. Her bruises had already begun to fade, the sickly yellow colour they were now a massive contrast from the livid purple of before. It was lucky that Hadvar seemed to have a near endless suply of the little glass vials. As a Nord woman, Asta was significantly taller than the young woman, and she could see that Hadvar and Ralof both towered over her, it was no wonder she'd been intimidated when she'd first arrived. The girl's inky black hair contrasted sharply with the blonds dominating the room, and her skin was paler too. Asta hadn't been with the Stormcloaks long, and having spent most of her life in Ivarstead, she'd not met many people other than Nords.

Now and again the odd traveller would pass through to climb the seven thousand steps, but it seemed the grey beards were predominantly a Nord attraction. The only other race she'd met had been that strange Bosmer who always wandered around Ivarstead smiling all the time, as if there was anything to smile about in that tiny, endlessly boring mill town. Because of this she had never realised how very different all the races could be. Oh she knew the Khajit had fur, and Argonians were scaly, but only in an academic way. She had never even really thought about how such subtle differences could make such a huge divide in appearance between two human races. Nords and Bretons were apparently like night and day if Wren was anything to go on. Where as Asta was tall with wider shoulders and a womanly figure caused by her hips contrasting with her smaller waist, Wren was decidedly less shapely. It wasn't that the girl didn't look feminine, it was simply that her hips didn't cause the same kind of curve though her waist was tiny. It was an effect that could have been called willowy had she been gifted with the height of an Elf or a Nord, but with her height it could only be called petite. Asta remembered that somewhere along the line, humans and Altmer had interbred, which had been the start of the Breton race. When you looked closely, you could kind of see it in her face. Her cheek bones were high and her chin pointed, giving the girl a heart-shaped face. Asta couldn't see her eyes as the girl's hair fell over her forehead, covering them from view. She kept her head ducked low, not making eye contact with anyone in the room and her short dark locks shielded her from view. As she watched, she couldn't help but be surprised by the Breton's demeanor. No Nord woman would ever be seen as subservient to a man's wishes. Nords were the epitome of proud, no woman she knew would ever skulk around with her head bowed as though intimidated or scared, even if they were. Hopefully, the girl would gain confidence through her experiences, as there was no way such a timid little thing would survive the harsh land of Skyrim. Asta would mention that when she had a chance to talk to the girl. Hopefully that conversation would be both brief and vague.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Why was the other woman staring at her? Wren had already noticed that Ralof and this woman shared a uniform and surmised that they were in the same group, but that went no where towards explaining why the other woman seemed so intent on starring a hole into the back of her head. Keeping her head down, with her hair covering her eyes, Wren followed after Hadvar, keeping a tight grip on the hand he had offered her moments ago.

His palm was warm and lightly callused from sword work. It surprised Wren that this evidence of violence didn't scare her but made her feel more secure within Hadvar's protection. Her own hand was thin and pale inside the curl of his fingers and was dwarfed by the very size of it. Intermittently, he would run the pad of his thumb along the underside of her hand, towards her littlest finger, as though reminding himself that she was still there. The tingles this created fizzed along her arm in an intricate dance, racing through her heat and warming her at the very centre of her being. She'd never felt anything like this before. Wren didn't know why, but she wanted more contact, wanted more tingles. As she thought about it, her breathing became slightly quicker and a blush began to warm her cheeks.

They were moving through the curved corridor beneath Helgen Keep, cells lined the walls to either side of them but all he could think about was her. Hadvar marvelled at the feel of her hand in his. Even such an innocent form of contact was filled with heightened sensation, and had he not known better, he would have thought that he was the one suffering the effects of a lust potion. He ran his thumb over the length of the underside of Wren's hand, delighting in the feel of her unbelievably soft skin. Knowing that it wasn't the most appropriate of feelings, he tried to quash his growing lust beneath a heavy layer of propriety and will power.

Her breathing quickened behind him and Hadvar glanced back, just to ensure she was still alright. Wren's face was flushed and her lips slightly parted, she was watching him and as he looked back, the pale flush flared high on her cheekbones. That layer of propriety and will power shuddered at her gaze, wavering, nearly giving way before he shoved the rising lust back down. It wasn't right. She wasn't feeling these things on her own, they were forced upon her by that gods-damned potion. Hadvar faced forward again as he thought to himself that she wouldn't even be looking at him if not for the potion. The hollow ache that thought caused him was enough that he could only glare at the floor, knowing it was beyond foolish to invest so many emotions so very quickly in one girl. He only just knew her name, for Kynareth's sake, what was he doing being hurt by her possible indifference at a later date.

They had passed through a short section of unpaved tunnels, left there by the original stonemasons when they were building Helgen's Keep. As they moved forward they came to the opening of a large subterranean room. Hadvar could hear the sound of water rushing through but what concerned him was the fact that over the sound of the waterfall, he could clearly hear the clashing of blades and the shouts of both Stormcloaks and Imperial Soldiers. He felt Wren walk in to his back as he came to a pause just before they were in sight of the opening and he pulled them both over to the wall, pressing her gently against it with his arm, he turned to the group and signalled that they all be silent. Ralof frowned at him and crept forward along the line.

"Stormcloaks." He said, "And Imperials. They're battling it out at the moment but whichever side wins we're in trouble."

Ralof nodded. "We don't have the option of waiting around to see who wins either, there's a dragon on our tails and you have to get Wren out of here quickly," Ralof smirked, "Or you might just get caught on the road to Riverwood with your trews around your ankles."

Hadvar blushed alarmingly at the crudeness of Ralof's suggestions. As if he would allow for Wren to be taken in the middle of a forest... Even as he thought it he was assailed with images, flashes of him and Wren together, her short hair curled around his fingers as he pressed her against the smooth trunk of a tall tree, over-shadowed by it's branches as he plunged in to her, her head thrown back, slim, pale neck bared to his lips and tongue. Her breath coming in pants as he brought her to peak again and again.

He groaned as his trousers tightened uncomfortably. Glaring at the smirking Ralof he willed his thoughts to more appropriate things like the battling soldiers in the room down the hall.

Grimacing, he moved back over to where Wren stood, her back to the wall. He waved the Stormcloak girl over.

"What's your name?"

"Asta"

"Asta, I want you to stay here with Wren and guard her. Ralof and I will go and clear the room. Join in if you have a tactical advantage but your priority is to keep her safe."

Asta had never been one to take orders well, particularly from an Imperial, but Hadvar was so intense, that there was no room for discussion. She didn't really want to fight her fellow Stormcloaks either and it was highly unlikely that they would just let her and her party pass, what with being led by the Imperial soldier. This way, at least, she would have a chance to have a quick word with the little Breton about consent. She nodded as the torturer's assistant moved past her with his sword drawn and joined Hadvar and Ralof. She watched as the small group headed off in to sound of waterfalls. Wren followed Hadvar with her eyes until he was out of sight and Asta could have sworn the girl whimpered quietly. She moved forward as the girl started to take steps after her soldier. Clapping a hand on the girls shoulder quickly to stop her moving forward and pushing her gently back towards the wall, she drew her sword incase anyone escaped the melee and headed their way.


	4. Chapter 4

Ummm...Ok, So I have a horrible confession. I've been updating on the kinkmeme more often than I have here. Please forgive me. I also have to add, for the first time, that I don't own any of this stuff except Wren, even Asta is actually a character in the game, all I do is play with them and mess about. I'm traveling at the moment so updates will unfortunately be sporadic (as if you could get any more f***ing sporadic than I have been :( ) Also, as a warning, just incase anyone under the age of 16/18, depending on your country of origin has slipped in, this is going to get pretty graphic, not neccessarily this chapter but over the course of the story, stuff is gonna happen (when i can pluck up the guts to write it, I'm not stalling honest), so please be warned. I've put it as mature for a reason, if there was a highewr rating I'd go for that to. Please don't read his if it's gonna offend you coz that's the last thing I want to do. Thanks for reading, and continuing to do so despite me. :) xx

* * *

"Have you ever been intimate with a man?"

The question came out of nowhere. The other woman wasn't even looking at her and Wren was sure her attention was focused on the skirmish that was occurring in the other room. They had crept forward only seconds ago so that Asta could see what was happening. She'd made Wren stand behind her but she could still see. Hadvar and Ralof were back to back in the middle of the room, both fighting off a range of soldiers and rebels. It seemed as though whilst the two groups hated each other, they hated someone who seemed to have sided with the other side more.

She was watching Hadvar, desperate to keep him in sight when Asta had turned to her and popped the question.

"What?" Even fear couldn't have kept Wren from sounding shocked.

Asta sighed. For a moment she looked indecisive, but to Wren's continuing horror, she gathered herself and started again.

"Have you ever had sex?"

Wren shook her head. Asta seemed about to start again but Wren held up her hands quickly to try and stop her.  
"I...I knew what you meant, s...sorry. I haven't. But, um, why are you asking?"

Wait. Hadn't anyone told her about the potion? Had she even been concious when the man's assistant had explained what had been done to her? Asta's mouth thinned out even more when she realised that suddenly it had become up to her to explain things to Wren. Probably even the fact that she had been drugged to crave sex.

Great.

She closed her eyes, leaning her head against the cool stone of the wall, trying to pull her thoughts together to get through this conversation.

Asta started by explaining exactly what she had been dosed with, she watched as Wren's face grew first red with a blush and then paled as she elaborated. She was worried when Wren began to slide down the wall but gathered that it was just shock when the smaller woman looked up at her and asked about a cure. Asta answered in the negative and watched as the last of the colour leeched from the poor girl's face. She could only watch as the girl pulled her knees up and rested her forehead against them, her shoulders shaking with each in drawn breath.

And then she stilled. All movement stopped and Asta couldn't even tell if she was breathing. She bent down, her back to the room in which Ralof, Hadvar and that odious assistant where fighting for their passage to safety, her worry over the stillness of the girl before her making her forget the situation in the other room. Gingerly, she touched the girls thin shoulder, expecting her to either flinch away or lean in to her touch. What she wasn't prepared for was the utter stillness beneath her fingers. There was no reaction, not even a little shiver beneath her fingers. Ever so slowly, she tightened her fingers on Wren's shoulder, hoping to convey comfort and support, and was rewarded when the little Breton turned her head slowly, eyes wide, gaze fixed and unmoving.

Asta wished she could take the time to be delicate about this whole business, but they were quickly running out of that precious commodity. Should Hadvar and Ralof survive their foray in to the water room, they would be back to guide them out shortly, and if not...well then, they had something more to worry about.

"How old are you Wren?" Asta had noticed that she was tending towards thinking of Wren as a girl, which could make the whole matter that much worse, and hoped she was wrong in her estimations of her age. She hoped she was over fifteen at least.

Fifteen was the youngest age a girl could marry. Most waited, some did not, but the Jarls's had come together on his point at the very least. No maid under the age of fifteen was to be wed and arranged weddings were frowned upon. Within the community at Ivarstead, Asta had only seen such a young bride once. A young Nord, looking to escape from her over-bearing family, had married her only slightly older childhood sweetheart almost as soon as her day of birth had come around. They had quickly moved away, the young man finding work in a small mining village near Riften. The circumstances and the similar age of the groom had meant it was not as frowned upon as if there had been a huge difference, but there were still many whispers, rumors and conjecture over what had driven such a pretty girl to marry so young.

Of course, no such conjecture had spread about the groom. It seemed strange to Asta that such petty gender roles were still kept too by her society, despite the fact that many women bore arms, fought in wars, joined rebellions and the companions, they were still expected to be the model of femininity, to bear sons, cook meals, keep hearths. It was most rare to hear of a house husband in the rural areas of Skyrim. But she was getting sidetracked.

"I've seen nineteen summers, I'll have seen twenty by the end of this year." Wren's voice was hollow and the sound a murmur, which worried Asta but she pressed on, her heart a little lighter for knowing that she was not so young as she'd believed.

"What brought you to Skyrim Wren?" She asked gently, really just hoping to keep the girl talking. As she watched, the girls eyes glazed over slightly and she tightened her fingers on her shoulder slightly.

"Hmm...Oh...Uh, well, mother's magicka binding spell will wear off soon after my twentieth birthday and I wanted to try and make it to the college in Winterhold for training. The Mage's Guild in Cyrodil has become to expensive and they no longer seem to be taking on trainees anyway."

Her voice had become stronger as she spoke as though having something to focus on was drawing her back to herself. Asta was wracking her brain for another easy question to ask, one that wouldn't probe to deep, when Wren continued without prompting.

"I suppose that explains what happened in the courtyard then...I thought something was wrong with me but it feels the same but stronger?" She murmured, though there was a hint of a question in her voice.

"Hmm, what do you mean? What happened in the courtyard?"

"Oh, well, my body felt all tingly and fizzy, and I touched him, o...on his face. It felt the same as now and I couldn't control my hands and my legs were wobbly, but if the potion made me feel like that, then I guess that would explain it."

Asta looked down at the young woman beside her. In the courtyard? But that was before the Dragon attack, before Wren had even been led away. There had been no potion until the torture chamber surely, which meant...

She quickly shuffled round to face Wren, grasping both the girl's shoulders in her hands, forcing her to look up, trying to get her attention. The Breton's pupils were blown out, only the smallest sliver of that crystal blue was still visible.

"But there was no potion then. They didn't give you that awful concoction till they had taken you from Hadvar. They couldn't have given you anything like that in the cart on the way in to Helgen, it would have been to visible, they'd never get away with it!"

"Wasssn't there?" Wren's words were drawn out like she had to really think before she could form each syllable. "'m sure you're right. My head's really fuzzy and my insides feel like I'm full of flying things. Oh everything's burning and itching...Is...Is...Are they coming back? Need...need...something."

Asta felt the girls forehead, there was no fever though her skin was flushed and she was panting slightly, her breathes coming in little gasps, and she could have kicked herself for not realising what was happening, the potion had advanced and they needed to get out of here now.

She stood, leaving Wren slumped against the wall, her head thrown back as she tried to draw in enough air, and started for the opening to the other room. She had to alert Hadvar, and tell him what she knew as well, the man would be eaten up with guilt if he thought he was taking advantage of someone who was drugged. Well, she was drugged, but she had felt some form of lust, or care, or even love for him before that point, and they could take comfort from that at least. She didn't see the arrow before it hit, but she certainly felt it.


End file.
